


The joke's on you: Payback's a bitch, but for whom?

by Yeziel_Moore



Series: Dancing With Angels [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Gen, M/M, Nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeziel_Moore/pseuds/Yeziel_Moore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Free Will want revenge on Harry. They call in a specialist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The joke's on you: Payback's a bitch, but for whom?

**Author's Note:**

> I've discovered that I'm way better with romanticism than I'm at humour, which is kinda sad 'cause I don't trust myself with romance at all.

  
**Disclaimer:** _I don't and will never own Harry Potter or Supernatural.  
_ **Words:**   _2553_

 

* * *

 

Looking at the sheer devastation the Archangel-turned-Trickster and the Human-turned-something-else had left in their wake, team Free Will could only groan in unison. Well, Sam and Dean groaned, Cass merely watched with eyes bigger than a full moon and mouth wide open. They were severely questioning the wisdom of their choice of help.

It all started the day after Harry had pranked all of them, even Cass, who still was lost in la-la-land. Dean wasn't sure what to think of that and honestly he didn't think he wanted to know what was going on behind those steely blue eyes. He didn't need another trauma to add to the absurdly long list, _thankyouverymuch_. But as I said, everything started the day after, when Dean decided that they were going to pay Harry back with the same coin.

They spent almost an entire week brainstorming, and by 'they' I mean Sam and Dean because Cass ideas... well, let's say there weren't useful... as in, not at all. In the end all they had to show for their efforts was a big bag of nothing. Their methods may've worked on each other but they would never work on a wizard, much less Harry. So they were struck. They needed better ideas, they needed the power to pull them off, in short, they needed help. It was then that Dean had the third worst idea on modern history -the first being Sam's brilliant idea of female companion which brought about the Apocalypse, and the second this whole thing.

They needed help to trick a tricky enemy, what better that the master of tricks himself?

And that's how they ended in such a situation. More or less. Gabriel, or Loki as he preferred, had gleefully accepted the challenge presented to him by Dean-o. How could he not? The chance to prank the Master of Death himself, presented to him by his two favourite subjects and his littlest brother? Priceless.

At first, things had gone quite well, in an almost normal way, you know. They had managed to trick Harry into coming to the town they were temporally staying, they went over business –because the Apocalypse didn't deserve any other treatment- and after hours of heated arguing and nothing new that would contribute to the cause, they went to eat. And that's when Harry was turned into a pigeon, right after biting into his treacle tart.

They really should have seen the resulting disaster coming. Everybody and their grandmothers knew that you didn't mess with Harry's treacle tart, you just  _didn't_. Not if you wanted to see another sunrise at least.

Just as everybody with eyes and a quarter of a brain knew that it was suicidal on the highest degree to touch Loki's sweets. Which is exactly what Harry did after regaining his human form, he turned all the sweets in the entire  _world_  into potatoes, of all the things, during Halloween. How he did it would remain a mystery forever, the same way that Loki's nearly catatonic form would remain one of Dean's more memorable memories for the days to come.

' _At least he had the decency to choose sweet potatoes, that has to count for something, right?'_ , thought Sam in dismay. Somehow he knew that nobody, especially the rioting children of the world, would appreciate the Master of Death's little consideration, if it could be called that instead of outright mocking.

Sam had always been a believer of seeing the glass half-full. A commendable trait, especially considering their fucked-up lives.

One thing was for sure, if they hadn't clued in before, after Halloween team Free Will knew for sure that they were royally screwed in all the ways that counted and some ways that hadn't been invented yet.

"When do you think they will stop?" asked a frazzled looking Sam. The three of them were holed up in the brother's motel room waiting for the storm to pass them by or for the world to burn up in a shower of supernatural flames. "Will they ever stop?"

Dean growled. Sammy had been asking those same questions for the past day or so. His answer was still the same, with the difference that each one was more violent: "How the Hell should I know, stop asking stupid questions Sammy!"

Another explosion, this one a little too close for comfort, rocked the motel room to its foundations, the windows rattled uncontrollably and dirt fell from the ceiling and onto their heads. As if coordinated, the three of them turned towards the dirty window but none dared to look more closely at the world beyond the dirtied glass.

Until, finally -predictably- Dean snapped.

"Okay, I've had enough of this shit!"

"Wha-? No! Dean, wait a sec-!" But it was too late, Dean had already slammed the door shut on his way out. "Damn it, Dean!"

Exasperated by his brother's behaviour Sam could do little but to follow him. Who knew what could happen to Dean when the hot-headed idiot threw himself to the wolves? Or would that be hyenas? Well, nothing good, and that was experience talking. Not that Sam couldn't understand the feeling of going stir crazy after three days of staying put, all because of the insanity they had -stupidly- unleashed upon the unsuspecting town. Thank God that Cass still had enough angel-mojo in him to conjure them some food and drinks or they wouldn't have lasted twelve hours.

Sam ran through the ghastly painted front door and almost bowled over Dean who was just standing there like the moron he was. He had a complete string of recriminations and curses itching to be spewed but all of them died out in his throat when his eyes found the same spot his brother's eyes were dumbly fixated on. His instincts warned him the second a third presence got too close but a familiarity built with long periods of willing and unwilling company told him that it was Castiel. Not that it mattered. Had Lucifer decided to show up right then he wasn't sure how or  _if_  he would've reacted at all.

What could've produced such a reaction, you are surely asking yourself. I am asking myself that same question so why don't we take a look.

The parking lot, or what used to be the motel's parking lot, was now a lavishly decorated ball room taken right out of a Disney movie, complete with expensive hangings made out of authentic silk, an orchestra, waiters and, of all the things, ice sculptures. Those would've been more beautiful if they didn't depict things like dragons, hippogriffs, and other beasties. Dean gaped inelegantly and couldn't even conjure enough brain force to remember that his car  _used to be_  in that park lot. He thought it was understandable, I mean, come on! What the Hell was a Ball Room straight out of the Victorian era doing in the middle of nowhere! The oldest hunter, who was really,  _really_ ,  _ **really**_ , regretting his idea, turned around to where he knew Sam was. He opened his mouth to say... he honestly didn't have a clue of what he could possibly say. Once more it didn't matter because as soon as Dean caught sight of his little brother his jaw fell and he choked on his own spit. Not a cool way to go.

Finally Dean recovered enough to exclaim, a bit hysterically, "I always knew you were a big girl, Samantha!"

Sam, for his part, was startled out of his stupefaction by those familiar and unwelcomed words. He turned on bitch-face #57 and focused his hazel eyes on Dean, a caustic comment ready on the tip of his tongue. The second he saw his older brother, however, he swallowed not only his comeback but he almost swallowed said tongue too.

"W-what the Hell? Dean, you... you..." Sam couldn't help it, he cracked up.

Dean frowned. Now a bit more worried than amused by the sight of his little brother in an orange dress. "What are you laughing about Sammy?" When Sam kept laughing he muttered, "It's not like I'm the one in a dress."

"Oh, yes! Yes you are!" And he laughed again, not caring overly much about the fact that his clothes had been mysteriously replaced by a weird-looking dress. With a trickster and a powerful wizard absorbed in a prank war... well, let's just say that it could've been a LOT worse.

Dean's unmanly yelp of indignation was music for Sam's ears.

"Dude! What the hell? Why am I the one in the tacky dress?"

"It's not a dress," come the voice of Castiel who was standing still behind Sam and who looked highly confused in the face of the brother's antics and not about the fact that he was cross-dressing, noted Dean wryly. "These" he motioned to their garment, "are dress robes. Commonly used by wizards and witches from Great Britain and a few other countries which prefer tradition over comfort."

Dean shot the angel an unimpressed look. "Like I said, dresses," he deadpanned and looked mournfully at his own bright yellow robe and then at Castiel's Prussian blue one. If it wasn't for the fact that it was such an alien thing to see, Dean would've been forced to admit that Castiel didn't look half as bad with the weird thing on. It may've something to do with the fact that he was always wearing a long trench coat or that, in comparison, the angel's robes were infinitely better that his or Sam's. Theirs were plain ridiculous. "I bet this was Gabriel's idea."

"Ding-ding! We have a winner!" Said Harry out of the blue.

"God-fucking-damnit! Don't do that!" Shouted Sam and Dean at the same time, only to be summarily ignored.

"Looking good Cass," complimented the Master of Death with an easy smile that was just a little strained.

Castiel looked down at his deep blue robes with golden lining and fastenings. He honestly had no knowledge about human garments besides the basics, whether they came from the normal or wizarding world, so, like always, he took Harry's word as the truth.

"Thank you," he acknowledged and tried, for the first time, to return what he now knew was a compliment, and Harry, with his dark silver robe lined with emerald green that brought out the man's eyes deserved the try. "You too." Ok, so he could've been a bit more specific, but the guy, er, angel, was learning, slowly, very slowly. It didn't seem to bother Harry one bit though, as he practically lighted the room with his happy smile.

An impatient cough from Dean turned their attention towards him. "Well, now that the chick-flick is over," he ignored the exasperated sigh from Sam, "would somebody bother to tell me what the hell is going on right now!"

"Loki," Harry said as if that explained everything. And it did. "He, somehow and I really don't want to know, managed to get some books about my life," he made a face, "that don't really exist, by the way, not in this dimension at least. I don't think so..." a cough brought him back to the present. "Yes, anyway, this is a re-enactment from the Yule Ball in my forth year."

A beat of silence.

"WHAT?" Chorused the Winchesters. Harry almost whistled in admiration, that took some ability, he should know after knowing the Weasley twins.

"Yup!" The Master of Death said with a wide smile. He was somewhat annoyed that Loki was forcing him to revive one of the most embarrassing moments of his mortal life, but this was not then and now he had the Winchesters to annoy too. His ears perked when the music started to play. His smile transformed into a shit-eating grin. "And now it's time to dance! Come Cass, you're with me!"

He gave the angel no chance to complain as he was already tugging the higher being by their joined hands. Castiel looked back to the stumped brothers once but let himself being dragged. If this was Gabriel's doing then they wouldn't be able to leave until they did as Gabriel wanted simple as that. He, however, couldn't understand why Harry didn't just break the illusion, especially if this setting bothered the raven-haired man as much as the turmoil in his soul betrayed. He asked as much but the answer he received was not what he expected.

"If I do that I will lose the chance to dance with you, which would be a pity, don't you think?"

Not what he expected at all. Castiel's cheeks were coloured a soft pink by his embarrassment and awkwardness in all things pertaining to the heart, feelings and basically everything remotely human-ish. Not that Harry was any better in those matters mind you, he was too damaged by the horrors of his human life and the subsequent transformation to whatever he was now. The only difference between them was that Harry had more experience thanks to living as a human and was an excellent actor.

"Come, let's have some fun!" Encouraged Harry, in response to which he received a shy and slightly unsure nod.

* * *

 

"I can't believe you just ditched us! What kind of friend are you?" Accused hotly Dean, while trying to dislodge the cumbersome dress robe that just wouldn't let go of him! "Ha! Take that you piece of... Ouch! What the Hell was that for, Sammy!"

"You were fighting with a piece of cloth Dean," deadpanned Sam with an unimpressed look on his face. He was seated on a chair and had already changed into more modern and familiar clothes. Dean scowled at that.

"Yeah, and you know what they say, don't you Dean-o? That talking to inanimate objects is the first sign of insanity and all that," said in mock worry Gabriel who was comfortably sprawled in the motel bed, or as comfortable as such a bed allowed. He was munching on a chocolate bar that Harry had provided as a peace offering in the cease fire agreement.

The aforementioned Harry snickered from his position on the other bed. He was laying down, one leg dangling from one side of the bed and with his head propped on Castiel's lap. He was the epitome of relaxed and looked as if he hadn't spent the past three days in a relentless prank war with a merciless archangel with a mischievous streak infinitely large and wide. Castiel, for his part, was sitting with his back against the orange and green wall. He didn't look like he was comfortable or relaxed but he was nowhere near as stiff and uncomfortable as he would've been a week ago and he had been forced in such a position.

Harry counted it as a victory.

He nearly purred when Castiel tentatively and carefully tangled his fingers on his messy hair in a gesture that was surprisingly human and nice. Assured of his actions by the green-eyed man contented smile he continued his ministrations, this time more sure of himself. Harry closed his eyes and practically melted, much to everyone's amusement. He paid them no heed but made a mental note to give Cass brownie points for this, as soon as he regained logical thought, that's it.


End file.
